The Cat Who Hit the Deck
by Reuai
Summary: The Cat Who Qwilleran is enjoying his peaceful, comfortable life 400 miles north of everywhere, until his serenity is interrupted by the sudden appearance of someone from his torrid past. Plus a mystery...eventually. Ch 3 up.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not now nor have I ever possessed any of the characters, locations, or buildings found in any of the famous The Cat Who… books written by Lillian Jackson Braun. I am merely a great fan of the series who thinks that the lack of a section on her work in the directory is a literary travesty and seeks to end this injustice, single-handedly if necessary. I do, however own the name of Marie Ingram and any part of Moose County as yet unfound in any pages written by Lillian herself. (Don't expect many, if any, of these to show up in this story.)

And now without further ado, I present:

THE CAT WHO HIT THE DECK

Written by: Reuai

Chapter One

It was a picturesque Spring Day in Moose County, 400 miles north of everywhere. Birds filled the air with shrill, merry melodies; small animals skittered about the forest floors; blossoms filled sprawling fields with Technicolor splendor, and in a century-old octagonal apple barn, the richest man in the Northeast Central United States was in a state of panic.

Jim Qwilleran (or Qwill, as his friends called him) was pulling at his hair and tugging at his oversized, drooping moustache as he frantically dialed the phone. Beside him, two seal-point Siamese were yowling in a bloodcurdling chorus that showed no sign of abating. Qwilleran glanced desperately at his watch as he heard the sound of distant ringing coming from the receiver.

Just as Qwilleran was about to collapse into a senseless heap, a harried voice said a beleaguered "Whozis?" into the phone.

"Nick!" Qwilleran said frantically. "Get Lori on the phone, pronto. There's a problem with the cats!"

"Qwill, is that you?" Nick Bamba said into the line. "Damn, I can barely hear you over that racket. What's going on is there a fire or something?"

"It's Koko and Yum Yum," Qwilleran replied through clenched teeth. "They've been doing this for nearly ten minutes and they don't stop! Get Lori on the phone!"

"Okay, okay." Nick said. "We were on our way out but I'll call her."

Qwilleran heard the woman's name being yelled away from the receiver, and waited impatiently as the phone changed hands.

"Qwill, what is it?" Lori asked. "Nick says there's something wrong with the cats. Is that them." It seemed like the wailing had gotten even louder, but that may have been Qwilleran's frayed nerves.

"Yes, that's them." Qwilleran said, trying to keep his calm. "They've been at it for over ten minutes, and I've tried everything!"

"It seems like they're overly stressed. You have to calm them down. Try covering their eyes and petting them wherever they enjoy it the most. If they don't calm down, try calling Dr. Constable and getting a sedative.(1) Now Qwill, I've really got to go. The kids are having a school picnic, and I'm in charge of the hot dogs and hamburgers."

Qwilleran thanked her profusely and hung up the phone. He turned and lifted Yum Yum, the dainty Siamese female, off the countertop she had been sitting on. As she yowled, he cupped his hand around her eyes and rubbed her fur gently, where he knew it was most appreciated. As the burly male, Koko, continued his tirade, Yum Yum gradually subsided in her howling and fell silent before drifting off to sleep. He repeated the process with Koko, with the same result. As the two brown-and-faun-colored bodies curled up in silent slumber, the six foot two, middle-aged newspaperman crumbled into an exhausted heap, sobbing with relief.

James Mackintosh Qwilleran was a former prize-winning crime reporter down below, as the residents of Moose County referred to the crowded, smog-ridden bulk of the United States south of the county line. He had relocated to the county seat of Pickax, population 3,000, when a bizarre inheritance from a near-forgotten family friend had changed him from a hand-to-mouth journalist to the wealthiest man in a county teaming with wealthy families.

Despite being an outsider, Qwilleran had created a name for himself among the Moose County elite. He had won the hearts of the populace by establishing the Klingenshoen Foundation, an organization based in Chicago that handled Qwilleran's massive inheritance, since he couldn't stand to deal with it himself.

Aside from the philanthropic fund, the people of Moose County adored Qwilleran's twice weekly column in the _Moose County Something_ called, "Straight from the Qwill Pen." The sad, sympathetic eyes and drooping, dramatic moustache that appeared at the top of every installment gave men a sense of awe, and women a sense of romance.

Of course, it didn't hurt matters that Qwilleran had thrown himself into Moose County's eccentric norm. He lived alone in a hundred-year-old octagonal apple barn with two Siamese cats. He also maintained his bachelorhood, despite his well-known relationship with the woman who ran the local bookstore, Polly Duncan.

Finding himself unable to relax, much less do anything constructive, Qwilleran gently moved the Siamese to their cushion on top of the refrigerator, policed their commode, put a midday snack in their food dishes, and left the barn.

Feeling antsy, Qwilleran drove to downtown Pickax to visit The Pirate's Chest where he knew he would find Polly. He pulled up in front of the long building and walked inside. An iron chest was mounted on the wall just inside, and Qwilleran usually stopped to smile at it when he arrived. Today however, he was in no mood for fond recollections.

Suddenly, a melodious voice came from behind him. "Qwill, I didn't expect you today. I thought you said you were spending time with the cats." She paused, seeing the strained look on Qwilleran's face and said. "Oh my! Qwill what happened to you? You look positively traumatized!"

"Problem with the cats." Qwilleran explained. "I called Lori Bamba and sorted it out, but I'm still a little shaken up."

Polly, a doting owner of her own Siamese duo, furrowed her brow in concern and took Qwilleran's hand, leading him through the bookstore to a secluded area filled with plush, comfortable looking chairs.

"Here, Qwill." She said softly. "You stay here in the reading area, I'll get someone to cover my shift and be right over."

Qwilleran collapsed gratefully into the inviting plush chair, and looked around him. It seemed unnatural to be sitting there without a book in his hand, but he didn't feel like perusing the shelves for an interesting title so he just sat and waited. Seeing the freshly varnished shelves, the crisp, unbroken spines, and the cheery, well-lit rooms, Qwilleran found it almost impossible to believe that not long ago this had been the site of a dreary, dusty, gray used book store called Ed's Editions.

Edington Smith had sold used books out of a glimmering feldspar building for fifty years before his death. It had once been a smithy, belonging to his grandfather. Unfortunately, Ed's Editions had been destroyed in an explosion only days after the death of its proprietor, leaving Pickax devoid of a literary venue.

To solve the problem, the K Fund had commissioned a new store to be built on the old lot, complete with a room devoted to the memory of the city's beloved bibliophile, and the services of Pickax's former head librarian at the helm. Polly had been glad to leave her old position, though she had confessed that she would miss her friends and the "Dear Ladies", as she referred to the prim, aristocratic women on the library board. She was happy to have a new challenge, and for a while all she ever talked about was the science behind building, arranging and running a bookstore. (Impulse purchases count for 50 of all bookstore income.)

A small, orange ball of fur pounced on Qwilleran's lap, and broke him from his reverie. Dundee, the store's official Marmalade Mascot, was a favorite attraction. He seemed to have an eye for quality literature, and Polly was convinced that he was solely responsible for a large chunk of the store's daily sales, and should get a paycheck. Qwilleran never bothered to disagree.

Moments later, Polly walked in and took a seat across from him. Putting a gentle hand on his knee she said, "Now, dear, tell me what happened."

Qwilleran found himself eager to relate the morning's incident. He explained how the cats had suddenly started their howling without warning, how offers of food, books, and playtime had achieved nothing, and how finally he had managed to quiet them with some help from the charitable and patient Mrs. Bamba. He deliberately left out the part where he turned into a sobbing pile of mush. He still had his dignity.

Polly listened to all of this with a look of concern and sympathy. She reached across to pet Dundee, who was busily kneading at the fabric of Qwilleran's pants before saying, "What do you think was wrong with them?"

Qwilleran shrugged. It was unusual for him to be at a loss for words, but it was also unusual for the cats to act against their routine nature. Yum Yum, he knew, habitually followed Koko's lead, but what was Koko's motivation? The male never did anything without reason, and Qwilleran was constantly endeavoring to figure out Koko's unique modes of communication.

Qwilleran spent a few more minutes talking to Polly as his nerves gradually relaxed and he felt calm enough to function normally. Saying a fond farewell and making plans for dinner, he left Polly to handle affairs in the Pirate's Chest with her capable four-legged colleague, and headed home to check on the Siamese.

When he arrived, the cats were in a state of frenzy, jumping about, this way and that, knocking over anything that wasn't nailed down. Over the din, Qwilleran heard the phone ringing.

This was a form of feline behavior he could understand. Koko and his accomplice were telling him _Answer the phone! It's important._ Qwilleran obliged, and heard a haughty, aristocratic woman's voice saying, "James? James _Qwilleran?_"

"Yes," He replied, an uncomfortable sense of familiarity clung to the voice. "To whom am I speaking?"

"Oh good. It is you. We've had a devil of a time finding you. It's Edith, James. You remember? Miriam's mother?"(2)

Qwilleran dropped the phone.

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(1) I am by no means an expert on cat behavior, and aside from the sedative I was completely making that part up.

(2) I know nothing of Miriam's family other than they were rich and disliked Qwilleran. If anyone has any further information (like a maiden name) I would be very grateful and will gladly make the necessary changes where they apply.


	2. Chapter Two

I would first like to apologize for the long wait; I finally decided that four reviews were enough to bring in the second chapter. (Plus writer's block) Second, I would like to apologize for the formatting bloopers of the first chapter, as I am still getting used to new software. Also, see first chapter's disclaimer stuff, because I'm not going to repeat it here. Here's the second chapter, enjoy.

THE CAT WHO HIT THE DECK

Written by: Reuai

Chapter Two

Qwilleran resisted the urge to hang up, and instead lifted the phone up to his ear and said in a mechanical monotone, "Edith. How lovely to hear from you. To what do I owe this unexpected call?" He made a point of avoiding the word "pleasure".

"Oh James we are simply beside ourselves here! Everything has been so confused ever since poor Miriam…" Qwilleran cut her off.

"Yes I can imagine, but that doesn't answer my question."

Edith continued on, seemingly unflustered. "Well, James, it has come to our attention that you recently came into a financial windfall, and that you've been living alone for quite some time…" Qwilleran cut her off again.

"Edith, I have been living alone since my marriage ended, and I came into my financial windfall several years ago, now what are you getting at?"

Edith gave a sigh. "Well, you remember Judith, right?"

Qwilleran winced at the memory of his ex-sister-in-law, whose vanity was only matched by her elitist attitude. "Yes, I remember Judith." He said.

"Well, you see, James," Edith plowed on. "Judith's ex-husband has been called overseas, and while she's vacationing in Europe I'm afraid that their daughter really has nowhere to…" For the third time Qwilleran cut her off.

"Edith, you can't mean what I think you do? Do you really expect me to play host to some kid I've never met from a family I _thought_ I'd severed all ties with a lifetime ago?" He fought to keep his voice level.

"Oh but James, really, I mean it's the least you could do!" Edith's voice had just the right amount of indignation and accusation to send Qwilleran over the top.

"Now you listen here, Edith! When Miriam died I washed my hands of you people, and good riddance!" He thundered. "How dare you call me up out of the blue and try to push some unwanted kid off on me after all the misery you put me through?" He felt cold sweat beading his brow, and he wiped it away with a shaking hand.

When Edith spoke again after a long pause, she sounded grim and businesslike. "Just listen, James, Edward and I are long into our retirement. We rarely stay at home and have lived quite comfortably without the hassle of children for decades now. Now, neither of us have much time left, and we'd rather enjoy our last years in peace. Believe me, if my son-in-law had any family to speak of we'd send the girl there, but it's just not possible." She paused to let the information sink in before saying, "She really has nowhere else to go. Now, are you going to just leave her like this? You have plenty of money, and I daresay you'd have plenty of room. What's more, you live in a small town where there'll be no danger for her like in the city, and things are rather simpler."

Qwilleran, still fuming, could think of nothing to say. He thought of what it would mean to leave a defenseless human being in the clutches of his former in-laws, and he thought of the children that Miriam and he had never had. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to play the father figure.

"Edith, be reasonable. I've never had children, I don't even know this girl. How do you expect me to take care of a child?"

Edith didn't say anything for a while. When she spoke again her voice was steely. "Will you help her or not?"

Qwilleran felt trapped. Edith wouldn't back down, that much he knew. He also knew that this was just one more way that Miriam's family had found to punish him for marrying their daughter. He desperately wanted to say no, but if they were so adamant about getting rid of this girl, how could he let her stay with them and not be riddled with guilt?

Qwilleran let out a long breath. "I'll do it." He said. He felt somehow as if someone else had said it, like it hadn't been his mouth forming the words.

"Good." Edith suddenly sounded cheerful. "She'll arrive at the Moose County Airport at five o' clock this Friday. She's a blond haired girl of sixteen, she shouldn't be hard to find. Her name is Marie Ingram." A sharp click told Qwilleran that the conversation was over.

Qwilleran sat down heavily in one of the comfortable chairs of the barn's sitting area. Yum Yum, sensing his distress, daintily jumped onto his lap and stroked his moustache with her velvety paw. Qwilleran managed a smile and stroked her ears before realizing, with a sickening lurch, that he had only six days to prepare for the arrival of a complete stranger in his home.

Frantically he dislodged Yum Yum from his lap, ignoring her yowls of protest, and snatched up the phone. With perspiration dotting his brow, he dialed the number of Amanda's Studio of Interior Design.

As usual, it was Fran Brodie who answered. "Amanda's." She sounded bored.

Qwilleran decided to ease into the subject at hand. "Good morning, Fran. Slow day?"

He heard her stifle a yawn. "Sort of. We had a bit of business earlier today, but it's been dead for the past couple of hours."

Qwilleran felt a surge of gratitude and felt a little giddy. Still, his voice was steady and smooth as he replied, "Well, I may just have something to take your mind off your boredom."

"Oh?" Fran sounded intrigued. But then, most women tended to find anything Qwilleran said to be intriguing.

"Yes," He stated formally, donning the character of the professional customer. "I have a…relative coming to stay with me for a while, and I need the guest room renovated into a more comfortable and welcoming space."

"Alright, Qwill." Fran said. Qwilleran heard the rustle of papers over the line. "And what sort of person is this relative?" Her tone held a note of expectation, and Qwilleran could almost see her with a pencil poised over a pad of paper.

Qwilleran stiffened, uncomfortable. After a moment's hesitation he said matter-of-factly, "She's a sixteen year old girl."

There was silence. After a moment, Fran spoke. "I'm sorry, Qwill. Did you say she was sixty?"

Qwilleran narrowed his eyes and replied gruffly, "No. She is sixteen. Adolescent. Her name is Marie." He recalled the sparse details given to him by his former mother-in-law.

When Fran finally spoke her tone was that of disbelief. "You don't know _anything_ else about her?" She knew full well that Qwilleran was not the kind to withhold information. At least, not where interior designing was concerned.

"I'm afraid so." He said. Fran didn't miss the note of regret in his reply. "Qwill, am I wrong to suspect that there's more going on here beneath the surface?" She inquired.

"No, you're not."

"Do you want to tell me about it?" She sounded sympathetic.

"I'd really rather not talk about it just now." He replied. Actually, he did want to talk about it, just not with the vivacious young woman who ran Amanda's Design Studio while the owner was busy with mayoral duties.

Fran did not miss the subtext. "I'm sure dad will tell me about it later. He always does." She said mischievously. Andy Brodie was the police chief of Pickaxe City, and a close personal friend of Qwilleran's almost from the day he had arrived in Moose County.

"I'm sure he will."

"Is there anything more you can tell me? Anything at all?" Fran almost pleaded.

"You know as much as I do. Is it really that important?"

"Qwill," Fran admonished. "The term 'Teenage Girl' doesn't exactly tell me all I need to know. What about her tastes? Her hobbies? How can I make a pleasing and functional room when I know absolutely nothing about the occupant's personality?"

Qwilleran could only shrug. "I figured a lot of pink on the walls and some stuffed animals would do."

Fran's response was horror-stricken. "Qwill! That's designer's suicide! Today's teenage girls don't go around in lacy blouses and ankle-length skirts. They're much more gender neutral than they used to be. She would never be happy in a bedroom that looks like somebody exploded a bottle of Pepto-Bismol in it!"

Qwilleran hurried to mollify her. "Okay, okay, I understand. No pink. You're the boss."

"When will she be here?"

Qwilleran winced. "In six days."

"Six days!" Fran was frantic. "At least with Mrs. O'Dell I had a full ten!"

Qwilleran smiled impishly. "Yes, but this time I'm not asking you to do an entire apartment, just one room."

"Six days!" Fran moaned. "And not a single clue about this girl to go on! It's impossible."

"Perhaps a minimalist approach?" Qwilleran suggested. "Just give her a place to start and she can build up from there. You can even work with her when she arrives."

Fran seemed to perk up at that. "Well, if we go with that, I can have it done by Wednesday at the latest. It'll go a lot smoother once—what's her name? Marie?"

"That's right."

"Once Marie gets here." Fran paused. "How long is she staying?"

Qwilleran huffed into his moustache. "I have no idea. Her father is in the military and he's been sent overseas. I suppose she's to stay here until he returns." He added silently, If_ he returns._

Fran sighed. "Well, I hope she likes cats." She said.

Qwilleran scoffed. "I hope the _cats_ like _her_." And they both hung up.

With a weary sigh, Qwilleran looked over to the large, comfortable couch that faced one side of the fireplace cube. There, curled up in the center, were both Koko and Yum Yum, sleeping soundly. Qwilleran couldn't help but notice that the Siamese had acted so strangely on the very day that he was to receive news that would change his life for some time. He no longer chalked these incidents up to coincidence, yet he couldn't help but wonder to himself, _How did they know?_

---------

Author's Note: Yes, this took a very, very long time to update. For a while there I didn't think I was going to add to this at all. Unfortunately, it's just such a good idea that I couldn't very well just let it gather dust, so here, at long last, is the second chapter. The ending was kind of weak, but I didn't think any of the next part belonged in this chapter. Marie isn't going to show up for another couple of chapters. First I have to introduce the other major characters (the ones that no _Cat Who…_ mystery would be without). For the next chapter, we see just how Qwilleran deals with life as the wealthiest man in Moose County, his love life, his job, and the impending arrival of a distant relative. I'm fairly certain that this one will be much, much quicker to update, since I'm starting it now. (Oh! And one more thing: sorry for the inexcusable lack of cats in this chapter. I'll try not to let it happen again!)


	3. Chapter Three

Author's Note: Here it is. Chapter Three! I hope you guys enjoy it. Hopefully this'll prompt to put up a Lilian Jackson Braun link on the Books page. If not, then I guess all us Koko and Yum Yum fanatics will have to continue to delve into the Misc. Books page. Anyway, in this chapter you will meet some of the staples of Moose County. For those of you familiar with the series, I'll do my best to portray them accurately. For those of you who don't know what the heck I'm talking about, I hope I can make them as entertaining as LJB did, so you can see why we Cat Who… fanatics love them so much. The character's you'll meet in this chapter include: Arch Riker, Andy Brodie, Mildred Riker, Celia Robinson-O'Dell and Junior Goodwinter. (Sorry, fangirls, no Derek Cuttlebrink yet.) Oh, and much, much, much thanks to the website "Ronald Frobnitz and Family" for helping me to keep things straight 400 miles north of everywhere. I would also like to apologize for how long I've made you all wait. I hate myself.

Just a note: Due to what I feel is a decline in the quality of the books (I blame money-hungry ghost writers) the canon of this fanfic takes place after _The Cat who Went Bananas_ and does not extend to _The Cat who Dropped a Bombshell_ or any TCW books that might show up later.

THE CAT WHO HIT THE DECK

Written by: Reuai

Chapter Three

The next day for Qwilleran was a flurry of activity. After his call to Fran Brodie, Qwilleran spent a few minutes gently stroking the Siamese before calling on his oldest friend and closest confidante, Arch Riker.

"Hey, Qwill!" Arch greeted him over the phone. "Bit early for a nightcap, isn't it?" Indeed, even after all that had happened, it wasn't yet one in the afternoon.

"Something's happened, Arch. What do you say to lunch at Tipsy's? I need some advice from a family man."

"Oh ho!" Arch shouted jovially. "You finally gonna pop the question?"

"Lay off, Archibald." Qwilleran said menacingly before Arch could continue at all. "Polly and I have no intention of getting married now or any time in the future." By now the argument was almost routine.

"Alright, alright." Arch said, appeasing. "Whatever you say. I'll meet you at Tipsy's in half an hour.

Qwilleran's mind was heavily burdened as he made the drive to Kennebeck. What was he going to do with a sixteen year old in his home? What about the Pickaxe grapevine, which put any major tabloid to shame? What would the gossipmongers say about a middle-aged billionaire housing a young girl of dubious relation? He had a hard enough time keeping his personal life with Polly private, how was he going to differ attention from this Marie character?

Pulling his car into the parking lot of Tipsy's Tavern, Qwilleran huffed worriedly into his moustache, which was bristling like mad. He dragged himself out of his car and up to the restaurant entrance, where Arch was waiting.

"Wow! Qwill, you look like Hell!" He greeted him.

"I still look better than you." Qwilleran replied tersely. Arch beamed. It was the playful banter of two friends who had been inseparable since grade school.

After a brief wait (no one ever kept Mr. Q. waiting for too long), Qwilleran and Arch sat across from each other at a comfortable table. They each ordered a steak, and Arch said, "So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

Qwilleran frowned into his glass of water. "I'm being haunted by ghosts of my past."

"What?" Arch looked baffled.

Qwilleran told his old friend all about the phone call from Edith and the impending arrival of the young semi-niece. As he listened, Arch's face went from puzzlement, to disbelief, to barely restrained fury.

"The nerve of those people!" He all but bellowed. Qwilleran shushed him and he lowered his voice.

"The nerve of those people!" He said again. "Just calling out of the blue and expecting you to take care of their problems? Of all the inconsiderate--" He broke off. "Why in God's name did you agree to it?" He demanded.

Qwilleran glared at his oldest friend. "Because I could tell by Edith's tone, they don't care about taking care of this kid. They want to get rid of her. Just like they wanted to get rid of me. I can't just leave her to them, Arch! It's inhumane!"

Arch huffed. "You don't know a thing about kids, Qwill. Especially teenagers! Christ, Qwill! You're opening Pandora's Box here!"

Qwilleran massaged his forehead. "I know, Arch, but what else can I do? I know what it's like to be under Edith's thumb. I know what this Marie kid is going through. I just don't have it in me to leave her like that."

At that moment their steaks arrived, and for the next several minutes neither man said a word as they ate in silence, each contemplating his own thoughts. Finally Qwilleran set down his fork and regarded Arch with determined eyes.

"Arch, I've never been a family man, you know that very well. You, on the other hand, you've been there (1). And you've got Mildred, who's got the family thing down pat. I figured if anyone could help me do this, it's you." He combed his fingers though his moustache. "How does one live with a teenager?"

Arch frowned down at the last remaining bits of his steak. "Well, Mildred's kids are all grown up now, but she talks about them growing up from time to time." He looked up at Qwilleran, apologetic, "It wasn't easy, Qwill. Teenagers, no matter how you try to deal with 'em, are gonna resent you with every fiber of their being. This girl is going to turn your life into a living Hell."

Qwilleran huffed into his moustache. "Well, now, hold on a minute Arch. I haven't completely forgotten my adolescent years. Or yours, for that matter. I seem to recall that our lives were less about hating our elders and more about just having fun. It seems to me that the only reason we ever acted out was because the adults always insisted on talking down to us instead of treating us like equals."

Arch chuckled. "Kids are different these days. Back in our time, no one would've ever considered shooting off a gun in English class, but look at what's been going on Down Below. Now, Moose County, this is like the place that time forgot. Kids here are different, they've got those old days values. This Marie person is from Down Below, so she's going to be every bit as stubborn and angry and resentful as the rest of them."

Qwilleran's eyebrows shot up. "You're talking like there's some big conspiracy going on with the kids down there. I just can't imagine this girl being some kind of hormone-crazed monster like you're describing."

"Oh yeah?" Arch challenged. "Then why were your former in-laws so eager to push her off on you?"

Qwilleran huffed into his tingling moustache. "I don't know Arch." He said. "Call it a hunch, but I just get the feeling that Marie Ingram is different."

"Wishful thinking." Arch grumbled.

Qwilleran summoned the check, and as the two men prepared to go their separate ways he said ruefully, "Thanks for your help, old man."

---

By now Qwilleran could drive to the Pickaxe police station with his eyes closed, so he barely had to pay attention to what he was doing as he drove out to speak with his good friend, Chief of Police Andrew Brodie.

Brodie was, as usual, lounging back in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk. Spying Qwilleran he boomed, "Hey Qwill! Fran tells me you're getting a new roommate. What's your smart cat got to say about that?"

Qwilleran slumped into a chair opposite the Police Chief. "How much did she tell you?" He asked.

"Enough to make my eyebrows reach my hairline." Andy commented. "What in the blue blazes are you thinking, moving some little girl into that barn of yours?"

Qwilleran hung his head. "I don't know what I'm thinking, Andy. To tell you the truth, I'm a little apprehensive about all this."

"Apprehensive?" Andy all but bellowed. "You should be terrified! There's no preparing for a teen, Qwill. They're rebellious, disrespectful, rude. Christ, they may as well be aliens for all you can identify with them!"

Qwilleran winced. "What's that cat of yours got to say about all this?" Andy asked again.

Qwilleran huffed into his moustache. "I don't know. But I'm pretty sure he knew about it ahead of time."

"Pardon?"

Qwilleran explained to Andy about Koko and Yum Yum's tirade earlier that day, and how he'd been forced to call upon Pickaxe's resident cat expert to calm them down. "I don't know if they're happy or angry about it." He said helplessly.

Andy leaned back in his swivel chair and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before saying, "So why'd you agree to do it?"

Qwilleran paused. By now he'd been asked that question enough that he should have a decent answer. But he didn't. Finally he said, "I don't think I had a choice. I mean, it didn't feel like I did. Somehow, I guess I just felt like it _had_ to happen."

Andy rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on Qwill! Don't tell me you're starting to believe in all that fate hooey!"

Qwilleran narrowed his eyes. "I can't help but think that this girl is going to have a much better life here then if I leave her with them!" He insisted.

"What?" Brodie looked baffled.

Qwilleran hurriedly explained about his in-laws and about Judith and Miriam's parents. He told the Chief about what it was like to live with the wrath of Edith and Edward, and about how he couldn't let some innocent girl live with that kind of misery.

Brodie whistled. "Wow." He said. "Wonder what she did to set them against her."

Qwilleran frowned. "It's probably her father that did it. Judith either divorced him or he got rid of her. Either way he's lost whatever favor her family might have had for him." He went on, "I remember Judith. She's no mother. She probably resents the kid, and her parents agree."

"So they figure dump the girl on you, two birds with one stone." Brodie surmised.

"Exactly." Qwilleran agreed.

"So, you're playing right into their hands."

Qwilleran frowned. "I prefer to think of it as getting Marie out of their hands."

Brodie furrowed his brow. "She won't like it, this girl. She'll probably hate you for it."

Qwilleran shrugged. "I know."

Brodie leaned over the counter, staring Qwilleran in the eye. "But for what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing."

Qwilleran smiled, suddenly feeling much better. "Thanks Andy."

---

Feeling the need for a pick-me-up, Qwilleran decided to have a chat with his own personal secret agent, Mrs. Celia O'Dell, formerly Robinson. But first, he had to drop off his Tuesday column at the office of the editor of _The Moose County Something_, Junior Goodwinter.

Slapping his thousand words on hummingbirds in front of the man, he commented, "It's a goatee now, I see."

Junior stroked the tuft of hair on his chin lightly. "The wife hated my beard, so I'm trying to reach a compromise. What do you think?"

Qwilleran frowned. "I think it makes you look like a nineteen year old beatnik."

Junior tugged on the hair. "Yeah, I was afraid of that."

"Face it, Junior. You are forever doomed to look like you belong in High School."

Junior smiled good-naturedly. He scanned Qwilleran's column in the space of a heartbeat and then said, "You did it again. Managed to pound out a thousand words on nothing."

"Koko made a new friend out by the gazebo." Qwilleran explained. "I was inspired."

Junior shrugged. "Whatever works, I guess. Good work Qwill."

"Thanks Junior."

"You want to stay for a cup of coffee?" Junior asked.

"No." Replied Qwilleran. "I've got errands."

---

The home of Celia and Pat O'Dell was, for lack of a better description, quaint. It was a small house for a small family of two, with walls of a honey yellow and white trim. The door was a not-quite-white color that reminded Qwill of homemade whipping cream, and it boasted a cheery brass door knocker shaped like a flower pot.(2) Qwilleran rapped smartly three times, paused, and then twice more with deliberate slowness.

A brief moment later, two smart raps sounded from inside, followed after a pause by one…one. _I am alone_. Qwill lifted the heavy loop of brass once more, and let it fall with a clanging thud.

The door opened, and Qwilleran was greeted by peals of laughter. Celia Robinson-O'Dell, aged 71, stood in the doorway wrapped in a blue and yellow floral print dress, dainty purple slippers and a pale yellow apron. Her beaming face glowed with laughter, and her eyes sparkled with the mirth of her role of Secret Agent 0013 ½.

"Oh, Chief! I told you that secret knock would work out! Come on in! Do you have an assignment for me?" She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"I just might, Celia." He said. He followed her into a cheery living room designed for comfort as well as aesthetic taste. Qwilleran took a seat on a dark brown sofa decorated with honey-colored doilies.

"How's Dennis?" Qwilleran asked, nonchalant.

Celia's face grew even brighter and she clapped her hands together. "Oh, he's just wonderful, Chief! You know he's found himself a nice young lady at college. Well, they're talking about getting married, after graduation of course. I told him, I said 'love is a wonderful thing, Dennis' Oh, and don't I know it, Chief, Pat is so wonderful. I said, 'but you better be careful, 'cause what looks like true love could be just a summer fling', and I should know that too. Oh, I've had such exciting flings in my day. I'll bet so have you, Chief!"

Qwilleran didn't respond.

"But why are you asking about Dennis, Chief? Forgive me but you never really seemed to take an interest before. I don't peg you as the cross-generational type."

Qwilleran shrugged. "I never saw the need. The truth is, I was never against the idea of being a father. It just never happened. And as the years went on…" He paused. "I suppose I simply lost interest in the idea."

"But…now?" Celia's brow was furrowed, and Qwilleran couldn't tell whether she was puzzled or concerned.

Qwilleran let out a deep breath. He looked out of the window, where the setting sun was casting a red and gold wash over the pristine rural landscape. "Now, fate has taken me for a ride again. Only now I'm not inheriting a fortune, I'm inheriting…a niece."

Celia's eyebrows shot up. Qwilleran mechanically repeated the story yet again. Celia was, astonishingly, silent.

At last she spoke, and her voice was soft and heavy. "Well I can't imagine, Mr. Q." She almost whispered. "You know my family has always been everything to me. Why, Dennis is my world. So is Pat. I love my children, my grandchildren, my husband. I've filled my life with love and joy." She looked at him sideways. "You've never had that, have you Chief?" She asked, not expecting an answer. Qwilleran only lowered his eyes.

"You never talk about your wife. You refuse to marry that lovely Mrs. Duncan. You surround yourself with friends, but that's a different kind of love. A different kind of joy."

"I didn't intend it to be that way, Celia." He insisted futilely.

"I know, I know." She swatted away his comment. "But that's the way it is. Now, I couldn't imagine a life where I didn't have my family. I imagine it'd be just as hard for you to imagine a life where you did."

"I have family." Qwilleran said defensively.

"You have cats. And while Koko and Yum Yum are wonderful family to you, it's not the same thing. They'll never grow old enough that they won't need you anymore. You'll never watch them learn and grow and develop into wonderful young adults. You'll never say goodbye and watch them go off to lead lives of their own." She placed a warm, gentle hand over his. "It's heartbreaking, but beautiful. And Marie just might be your one chance to know what it's like."

Qwilleran ran his hands over his face. He felt incredibly tired. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

Celia smiled. A sweet, subdued kind of smile. "I think you're doing the only thing. I think this is your second chance at a family. You're lucky."

Qwilleran leaned against the back of the couch. "Then, I do have an assignment for you, Celia."

She perked up, her demeanor returning to its usual pep and vigor. "Oh, goody!"

"I'm going to need a repository of knowledge on teenage girls, and I need you to be on call, whenever necessary, to aid me in the successful completion of this mission, however long it ends up being."

Celia winked "Well, I may be something of an old bird," Celia considered herself to be in her very young 70's. "But I do remember a thing or two about being a girl. I'll help out wherever I can!"

And with that, Qwilleran left Celia's house with a feeling of being somehow lighter. Despite the bag of cookies and kabibbles he clutched in his hand.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arch was married, and then divorced. That much I know, but I don't recall him having any children. So, if I'm wrong and he had kids of his own, feel free to tell me.

We've never been to the O'Dells, as far as I've read, so if any of the future books bring up a description different than this, well, I don't care. Stupid ghost writers.

Okay, guys, this wasn't the best chapter, but I hope it gave you some sense of life in Moose County and what the people there are like. Again, I'm really really sorry for the long wait, and after I promised you I'd have it done soon. Anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying it. In your reviews, please tell me if you want to see Marie in the next chapter, or if you want to see more of Moose County and how Qwill prepares for her arrival. I'm really doing everything I can to make Qwill's decision believable, so please tell me if anything seems out of character for him. And one more thing, prepare for Marie's initiation into Koko's select circle, and her reaction to living with an almost supernaturally "smart cat".


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